


They Speak Of My Drinking

by Jeanshard



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, France - Freeform, Holiday, M/M, terrible french
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanshard/pseuds/Jeanshard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the KMM prompt:</p>
<p>They're in an established relationship. Merlin's family lives in France and Merlin finally takes Arthur with him for a visit. It doesn't go well. It starts with Arthur getting sea-sick on the ferry which leads to him puking on Merlin's cousin/friend/brother/whatever Will's shoes and just goes downhill from there. Maybe including some rather bad French, some accidental drunkeness (French wine is the BEST), some incidental h/c and lots of lovely Merthur fun?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Do Not Get Sea Sick, Merlin

As the boat rocked, Arthur fought hard to distract himself from the growing feeling he was going to be really sick really soon.

Finding a suitable distraction, Arthur watched with a small smile as Merlin spoke in an excited blur of sounds to the waitress. Usually, Arthur found it easy to follow the constant whir of Merlin’s conversations, when he got excited he spoke so quickly he sounded like a machine gun, and after months of practice Arthur had perfected the art of understanding his boyfriend no matter how excited he got. But, today, Merlin was prattling on in French, a language Arthur had clearly overestimated his ability in.

Arthur swallowed, feeling his heart beat faster as he realized just how little French he actually knew. Everything he’d learned was cramped into the small book in his hands, and none of it would be any use trying to make friends with Merlin’s family. Unless they wanted directions, or help counting to a hundred, then Arthur would be set to woo.

He was educated in bloody Eaton, he’d gone to Oxford! But, his father had convinced him that German was definitely the better language, because he had some strange hatred of France after his wife had died there. That was all fine and well but now Arthur was going to look like an idiot in front of Merlin’s family, and for some reason Merlin really, really cared about their opinion, enough to dump Arthur after he made a total fool of himself, presumably.

“Arthur, are you ok?”

“Yes, what do you mean Merlin?” Arthur really hoped Merlin didn’t decide to dump him, because Arthur hadn’t met anyone else who was willing to cuddle him out of a bad mood, or stay up with him and listen to a business proposal all night, or get up early and create a new pancake every time they made up after an argument. No, there was no one like Merlin, at least not for Arthur.

“You look like you’re about to throw off, or jump off the boat.” Behind Merlin, the waitress began to titter, which was quickly stopped by one of Arthur’s death glares. She gulped, before spinning on her heels and scampering off, taking the glare as the dismissal it was. “Arthur, threatening waitresses with your eyes will not make your problems go away.”

“It will if she’s one of the problems.” Arthur watched as Merlin fought back a smile, still attempting to look disproving. “You’re sexy when you speak French.”

“Well you’re going to really enjoy this holiday, pôle de caillot.” When Merlin grinned, it was blinding, all white teeth, dimples and sparkling blue eyes. For a moment Arthur felt his breath being taken away, before he realized Merlin only grinned like that when he’d done something he assumed was funny.

“Why do I get the feeling I’ve been insulted?” Arthur leaned over; close enough to smell the mint of Merlin’s breath, the mask of coffee which Arthur had forced him to swallow so they wouldn’t be late. A tired Merlin was not an easy Merlin.

“Because you are much brighter than you look.” Arthur was torn between giving Merlin a swift knock around the head or a kiss on the lips, but before he had the chance to do either the waitress had returned with their food and placed it in front of them. 

“Thanks- shit- I mean merci!” Now Merlin made no effort to hide his laugh at Arthur, whilst the waitress simply shook her head and walked away. 

“Stop it Merlin. Or I won’t let you have your croissants.” Arthur lent over the table and began to pull away Merlin’s pastry, before his boyfriend’s hands clasped over the plate and dragged it back.

“It’s a good thing I really like you, because that accent is dire.”

Before Arthur had the chance to comment further the boat lurched, causing the undeniable witty retort he had thought of to shrivel and die in his throat.

“Arthur, come on love, it’s Ok, and we’re almost there now.” Merlin swept of his seat and ducked to sit beside Arthur. “Jesus, you’re going green.”

"Don't- lie Merlin. I do not get sea sick."

"In that case you better come up with an excuse for dry heaving in the bathroom."

“Thank you so much for-” Arthur felt his stomach heave as he threw his head between his legs. He bloody hated boats; he didn’t see why they couldn’t have taken the Eurostar or a plane. Why were Merlin’s family so desperate to come pick him up anyway?

“It’s alright, less than half an hour now, sweetheart.” Merlin murmured, rubbing his hands up and down Arthur’s back. Usually, Merlin didn’t like public displays of affection, and honestly neither did Arthur, but seeing as Arthur was a few lurches away from throwing up for the third time and Merlin really didn’t want to try and clean vomit out of his shirt again they both decided to make an exception.

Hours, days, seconds (Arthur couldn’t really tell) passed by before he was able to lift his head again, and when he did it was to stare at an empty, stained cup and a few crumbs on his plate.

“Merlin, where did my breakfast go?”

Arthur peered over to his boyfriend, whose tongue was stuck out chasing away a stray sliver of jam from his lips. It was somewhat like the first time they had met, when Merlin had ‘accidentally’ stolen the last roll in a buffet and Arthur had made an ill-advised (and according to Merlin ‘outrageously racist’) comment about stealing Frenchman (which had made sense at the time).

With another one of his incredible smiles, Merlin leant forward to say:

“You know Frenchman, bunch of bloody crooks.”


	2. Do Not Insult Vultures

By some small miracle, Arthur had managed to hold down his stomach until the end of the boat ride. Most likely, it was thanks to the fact Merlin had made it his personal mission to eat any and all food that Arthur managed to get within a foot of, but Arthur was not going to acknowledge that in anyway.

But now, walking down the rickety plank of metal that the ferry workers called a gangway and Arthur called a death trap, Arthur felt himself becoming really nervous. He’s never met Merlin’s family before, but from the way he talked about them it was clear their opinions were very important to him, so Arthur was desperate to impress. Especially as Merlin somehow managed to charm his father and sister despite the fact they were never charmed by anybody. The competitive side of Arthur was intrigued. 

The walk way shuddered and Arthur had to stop and breathe for a second. He chalked the nervous thrumming in his head down to the fact that is he leaned slightly to the left he would fall off into the ocean, holding his anchor weight of a suitcase and drown in a few seconds flat, but he knew what it really was.

Merlin had spotted his family and was trundling off down the grate, apparently without a second’s thought to Arthur.

Arthur managed to continue dragging himself down the iron death trap, cursing Merlin for leaving him with the suit case and running off to enjoy his family who would hate Arthur on sight and shoot him with a musket.

“Arthur! Come here!” Then Merlin, sweet, lovely, beautiful Merlin who would never shoot Arthur with an old time gun turned round and beckoned him over. “Mere, this is Arthur.” Arthur had to hold back a grin at Merlin’s French accent.

“Please Arthur, call me Hunith.” The lady, presumably Merlin’s mother, stretched out her arms and pulled Arthur into a large hug that smelt of wine and flour, and it was one of the nicest things he had ever smelt. “I cannot believe how long it has taken us to meet!” Arthur was grateful Hunith did not have a ‘ree-diculous’ accent, and sounded very normal to him.

“Mehrrrlin!” The same did not go to the strange man pulling Merlin into a large hug and flurry of foreign words.

“That’s Will.” Hunith whispered. “He just insisted on coming down to see Merlin arrive.” Arthur did not like the wave of admiration in Hunith’s voice as she spoke.

“Arthur, come meet Will.” Arthur hovelled over to Merlin, preparing his most charming smile (the one he used to schmooze business associates) but just as he reached to shake Will’s hand.

“Bon-jour Arthur.” Will shook Arthur’s hand with too strong a squeeze before leaning in and saying “That means hello, in French.”

“Thanks, I got that.” Arthur wondered if his voice sounded as snarly as he meant it. Doubtful.

“Don’t be an arse, Will.” Merlin’s arm wriggled until he had a good grasp of Arthur’s waist. 

“Merlin! You shouldn’t speak to Will like that!”

“Sorry mum.” Arthur was more than a little smug that Merlin didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. But he was not quite as smug when he saw Will wink at Merlin.

As they walked off to the car, Arthur couldn’t help but notice he’d somehow been waylaid with both his own and Merlin’s luggage despite an earlier squabble that he would not be left carrying all of Merlin’s books.

“Oh, you took Mordred with you, too.” There was no denying the hint of irritance in Merlin’s voice, which Arthur found odd, because usually Merlin was quite fond of children, and Arthur was the one who hid from their constant drooling, crying and stickiness. “Um, well Arthur, this is... Mordred, my nephew.”

Arthur walked to the car to see a small child, most likely the age of three, poking his head out from the window. As Arthur gave the child a smile, he started to cry and proceeded to vomit on Arthur and his newly cleaned shoes.

***

“Honestly Arthur, it’s quite hard to feel bad for you, it’s nothing you didn’t do to me during university.”

“Merlin, a small child just released the contents of his stomach onto your already ill boyfriend and you are sitting there, giving said boyfriend no sympathy and not even arranging for the deportation of his attacker.”

The car ride back had been very awkward. The car itself was clearly too small for all five of its passengers and luggage, leaving Arthur squished in the back next to Mordred, forced to sit without his soiled shoes and shirt as they trundled along at a few miles an hour up a bloody hill. He could have walked faster, and wouldn’t have been faced with the malicious glare of a future evil genius, or sit through Will shouting in a language that Arthur was certain was impossible to understand to everyone but Merlin.

He hadn’t even been able to enjoy the scenery because Mordred needed bloody ‘curtains’ on his window.

“Arthur, vultures do it to help clean each other. You should be flattered.” Merlin was pottering about his mother’s small kitchen whilst she ran to the shop to pick up something for lunch. Will was in the bathroom washing Mordred, and had not failed to somehow lay blame on Arthur for the entire incident.

“It’s awfully rude to compare the sweet innocent vulture to a kid like Mordred.” Merlin burst out laughing and Arthur snickered into his arm. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be playing the doting Uncle?” Merlin tensed at the word. “You know, I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I don’t.”

“Will’s an awfully ugly girl then, Merlin.” Despite the earlier snap, Merlin’s face grew into a small, albeit reluctant smile. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what’s going on?”

In all honesty, Arthur could probably assume. He knew Merlin had a sister, Freya, who had been Merlin’s best friend, but slipped in with the wrong crowd and ended up a teen cliché on drugs and running away every few days. Arthur remembered sitting, cradling Merlin for hours on the day he heard that Freya had not only died, but that he’s missed the funeral.

What he didn’t know, however, was that Merlin had a nephew.

Merlin opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Hunith burst through the door, barely managing to grasp the large bags of food between her arms as she whistled.

“Mum, I know Arthur’s big and all-”

“-Words hurt M.”

“-But you didn’t have to buy all this food!” Arthur jumped forward, easing Hunith’s load with a friendly wink and (hopefully) racketing up serious future-son-in-law points.

“I would have bought it earlier, Merlin, but I was worried it would go stale. I’m sure Arthur is used to much nicer food, but it is all I could afford…”

“It looks lovely, Hunith, I’m sure anything you’ve chosen will be delicious.” Arthur kindly ignored Merlin fake coughing which barely covered the words ‘kiss arse’ in favour in giving Hunith another one of his charming smiles.

“Merlin dear, if you’re feeling poorly I have some cod liver oil in the back.”

“Oh my goodness mum, it’s a miracle, I’m cured!”

Arthur sat back, feeling somewhat of an outsider as he watched Merlin and his mother preparing the meal. They worked like a well-oiled machine, passing each other ingredients and moving out of each other’s way without needing to say a word. Arthur always knew Merlin would be a mummy’s boy.

“Merlin, would you go check and see what’s taking Will so long?” Merlin grunted, picking a grape and popping it in his mouth, his hand rubbing Arthur’s shoulder as he walked past him to the bathroom.

Hunith began to sing, quietly, almost a lullaby, as she continued the meal.

“So, Arthur, what was it that finally convinced you two boys to come out here?”

Arthur wondered if now was the right time to ask, if now was the right time to divulge his epic plan to Hunith and try to get her on board. But no, it was too soon, they had barely known each other two hours and Arthur hadn’t been any further into the house than the kitchen. It wasn’t that he wasn’t sure about his decision, he hated to sound soppy but he’d never been surer of anything in his life, he just had to wait until the time was right. If Hunith didn’t approve it could ruin everything. This needed to be perfect.

“We’ve both wanted to come for a long time, Hunith.” He gulped. What should he say? That he’d been bloody terrified of meeting Merlin’s family, at first because he didn’t think Merlin would want him round for long and then because he thought family would ruin it? It wasn’t that he didn’t love Merlin, but he just didn’t want things to change between them, then after Merlin had needed to spend the night in hospital after being hit by a car he realized he wanted every bit of Merlin he could have, warts (family) and all? No, that probably wouldn’t go down well. “Then we both got time off and figured we should come together.”

“Yes, it is lovely to see Merlin on his quick trips, but it’s never really enough, I suppose.” Oh God, did she blame Arthur? Did she think Arthur was trying to keep Merlin away from them, cut him off from all his friends and force him to join a cult? Arthur would never do that, he’s become too fond of Merlin to watch him be sacrificed to a goat God. He should probably tell Hunith that… “Oh I’m just being greedy; his life is in London now, with you.”

Hunith passed him a small plate full of breads, cheeses and fruits. Surely she wouldn’t do that if she thought Arthur was a cult recruiter?

“You know he speaks very fondly of you, Arthur, he seems positively smitten.” Arthur couldn’t help but feel himself preen a little. He knew Merlin cared about him, obviously, they’d been together over a year, but it was great to be told by someone else, especially someone who knew him this well. “Look, if Will is rude to you, just ignore him, Ok? He’s just a little resentful.”

Before Arthur had the time to ask ‘Of what?’ Merlin was crashing through the small doorway, holding a wriggling Mordred, the both of them whining for food.


	3. In Which Smut Almost Ensues

Arthur sat alone in his room, drifting off to sleep, sadly alone. Hunith had put Merlin in a different room, most likely due to her catholic (clearly not really that strict) beliefs.

“Psst, Arthur.” Arthur’s skeleton tried to jump out of his skin and his heart burst from his chest. Someone was outside his window, knocking on the frame with bloody white fingers like a ghost-

“Merlin.” With a sigh of relief and a small chuckle, Arthur pulled himself from the warm hug of his duvet and opened the window. He smiled as Merlin, icy cold and shivering in his thin flannel pyjamas crawled through, basking in the heat of the room.

“Who else did you think you be knocking at your window at-” he stopped to check the small watch Arthur had given him last year “- three forty two in the morning?”

Arthur picked up Merlin’s frozen hands, rubbing them between his own and huffing breaths of air onto them. 

“Isn’t France full of hundreds of gorgeous young models desperate to get their clothes off? Or was ‘Titanic’ just a big lie?” Merlin gave Arthur a small kick in the shin, raising his lips to the blonde's smirk. (Which was the only reason Arthur didn’t give him a kick right back, it was not that he thought Merlin was adorable when he was petulant.

“Not for you. Consider yourself bound to this cottage, just the company of Will and I.” Merlin peppered the words with kisses, which slowly trailed away from Arthur’s lips to his jaw, chin, neck, where he eventually settled to give a bruise.

“Your super catholic ‘you must not live in sin’ mother is next door, M.” Merlin stopped what he was doing to give Arthur a sultry look.

“Arthur, I spent my entire teenage life learning the fine art of living in sin under the nose of my mother.” His fingers (which had warmed considerably, thank God) were teasing down Arthur’s side, across his bare chest and towards the waistband of Arthur’s pyjama pants. “What else do you think I did in a village before time?”

The village was beautiful, but miles from anything. When Arthur had first suggested visiting, Merlin explained there was one small shop, no wifi, few televisions and cattle. 

“Read your prayer book and studied like a good boy?” Arthur shuddered as Merlin dropped a hand to underneath Arthur’s pyjamas, did Merlin not get how Arthur needed to make a good impression and how would his resolve last if Merlin licked his lips like that?

“I’m not a very good boy at all, Arthur.” Merlin ruined porn for Arthur, he sounded so bloody sexy the faking twinks on screen did nothing for him.  
How could anyone strike Arthur as sexy after kissing Merlin’s pillowy lips, or hearing him moan, or watching him writhe or-

Arthur’s thoughts were cut off by Merlin gently sucking on his neck, as his hands ran down the back of Arthur’s boxers and began to work them off and over his growing erection, and Arthur found himself doing the same to Merlin.

As their lips met, Arthur darted his tongue past the border of teeth and into Merlin’s mouth, which tasted like mint and left over jam, quickly becoming Arthur’s favourite taste in the world, until he found himself licking the side of Merlin’s salty neck. That, the sweet taste of something so purely Merlin, despite being a little gross was what Arthur really loved. And Merlin himself, obviously.

Before Arthur had a proper idea of what was going on, he realized both he and Merlin were naked and sprawled along the bed (not that he was complaining) and Merlin was fumbling around in the tangled mess of pyjamas looking for something.

“Got…lube?” Arthur took pride in keeping himself fit and healthy, but sex with Merlin still left him breathless.

“Aha!” Victoriously, Merlin’s hand came out from the rope of pyjamas with a small tube clasped in his fingers.

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.” Arthur took the tube from Merlin’s hand, smiling as his boyfriend lay back and gave Arthur a small wink. The kind of wink that ruined porn forever.

As Arthur lent forward, his breath ghosting over Merlin’s skinny frame, he heard a slight tapping at the door and the creaking of hinges.

“Shit!” Before Arthur even had an idea of what was happening, Merlin had rocketed off the bed and began to grab handfuls of his clothes as he scuttled out the room and all but fell out of the window. He’d done it so quickly the bed was still a little indented with him and Arthur was left very aroused and very confused.

The door began to open and he somehow managed to throw the cover over the incriminating (and furious) parts of himself as Hunith peeked through the door.

“Oh, sorry Arthur!” For a moment of icy cold fear, Arthur was terrified Hunith had noticed his hard on, or scattered clothes. But, as he looked down he saw that the way the duvet was rumpled hid the view below his chest and his clothes had somehow been pushed under his bed.

“I don’t mean to pry.” Hunith was blushing, her eyes occasionally glancing over his chest. Was she nervous he didn’t have a shirt on? Arthur mentally thanked every holy figure she hadn’t come in a few minutes earlier, she would have dropped dead.

“Well, I just wanted to give you this.” Her eyes still firmly trained on the floor, she dropped down a steaming mug that smelt like chocolate. “Merlin said you loved it. Well, night!” She scurried out, much like her son did a few moments ago, and the parallel made Arthur squirm a little under the duvet.

Frustrated and resigned, Arthur threw off his covers before latching his hand onto his dick. Bloody Merlin, who the hell climbs through a window? Who wouldn’t bloody check if their mum had gone to bed? Who-

Was once again tapping on the window, waiting to be let in.

This time, Arthur would be sure to make sure to lock the window after Merlin wriggled through it.


	4. Blind Men Should Not Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we meet (some of) the more dysfunctional side of Merlin's family tree

As Arthur woke up alone the next morning, he decided that as lovely a woman Hunith was, he could not enjoy the sleeping arrangement she enforced on them. It was odd, really, she had very few qualms about Merlin’s sexuality, but god forbid he actually act on it before entering the holy sanctimony of a marriage. Which Arthur was more than happy to do, but now he had the slight problem that Merlin may think this elaborate proposal (that Arthur had been panning for months) was just to make sure neither of them had to crawl through a window at the cover of night (although if that was what it took…).

***

 

Later in the day, Arthur found himself locked in a glorified tin can with a very old man who should not be allowed to drive bellowing in French.

For the tenth time since he heard the old man say ‘Je vais devoir conduire sans lunettes puis’ (which Arthur could brutally translate to something about missing glasses) he checked to see if the windows were wide enough for him to jump out of if the car crashed. He considered saving Merlin, but seeing as it was the boyfriend’s fault he was locked in the car, Arthur decided fate would deal with the problem.

But then Arthur would end up sad and pining over Merlin and be punished anyway.

“Arthur, vous sentez-vous bien? Pouvez-vous être le mal de mer dans une voiture?” Arthur blinked, following the trail of the voice back to Merlin, a confused look on the blond’s face.

“Merlin, are you taking the piss?”

For a minute, Merlin looked really confused, before he muttered a quick ‘oh’ and gave Arthur a weak smile.

“Sorry, Arthur. I said, are you feeling sick?” Merlin stuck his tongue out at Arthur through the cracked mirror of the car. Arthur was going to die somewhere in a tiny village in France, and he’s never completed his bucket list.

“I’m fearing for my bloody life!”

 

“Yet somehow I’m the giant girl!” How could someone look so petulant and breath taking at once? Merlin really wasn’t fair.

“You want to save spiders from being killed, whereas I want to save us from being killed!”

“Arthur, I’m touched.” Merlin flashed him a quick wink, then fell back into a roaring conversation with his grandfather about god knows what. Did all French people speak so fast or was it just a genetic trait in the Emrys tree?

Arthur leaned against the back window and closed his eyes, running over the plan he had mentally prepared for the next few days.

Today Arthur was to meet the other half of Merlin’s family and go for lunch. Tomorrow they were to go shopping in the village with Hunith. The next day it was out hiking (which Melrin would never manage) with Merlin’s old friends. Then Merlin was letting (as if he didn’t want to) Arthur attend all the tragic tourist sites, and they were spending two days in Paris.

Where Arthur had planned a proposal so cheesy and stereotypical he was hoping Merlin would be laughing the right amount of too much and say yes. Because Arthur did not do big and elaborate things, Arthur was the awful kind of stoic and distant boyfriend people had no idea where they stood with, or how to try and get his affection. He started off as being ‘mysterious’ (Merlin had said rude) but soon people became sick of his lack of ‘gushiness’ and had to move on to something ‘healthier.’ And Arthur didn’t mind, it was a circle perfected by time, where his heart was never broken and it was never even really his fault.

Then along came Merlin, who did not try very hard to worm his way into Arthur’s attention but wound up there anyway. Merlin, who Arthur could not stand to be next to or away from until one day when Merlin asked him ‘what the hell’ his problem was, because Merlin had never done anything to make Arthur hate him, and Arthur explained what the problem was.

Because Arthur thought he had made himself clear and obvious by the way he would insult Merlin’s hair cut but never his ears, or the way he would always pay Merlin’s drink or meal or whatever, or the way he would always leave a quick voicemail on Merlin’s phone when he didn’t answer. He really, really liked Merlin, and this was the most obvious and romantic he’d ever been.

And at the time, Merlin had not even noticed.

***

If Arthur had not been told that Bailnor was Merlin’s father, he would not have even pegged them as the same species.

Where Merlin was sleek, Balinor was burly. Where Merlin was pale, Balinor was dark. Where Merlin was eloquent Balinor was gruff. But the two of them quickly and happily set to talking about their shared career path (exotic vet) and whirled on in a mixture of English and French, both occasionally stopping to make fun of Merlin’s granddad (Balinor’s father) or for Balinor to politely talk to Arthur on the way to the café.

Arthur had honestly wanted to hate Balinor for what he had done to Merlin when he was younger, for leaving Merlin, a little three year old Merlin alone with his pregnant mum and going off to explore the world, even trying to deny Merlin actually being his son at one point. But, seeing as Arthur was not meant to know this and it was something Merlin had told him when he was astonishingly drunk he did not bring him up. And watching how much the two other men clearly revelled in each other’s company was so clear Arthur didn’t dare spoil it.

“So, Arthur!” Balinor was very loud; Merlin said something about losing his hearing in an elephant attack when he was thirty. “Merlin tells me this is your first time in France?”

“Yes, it is.” It was odd not to call the man Sir. Arthur wasn’t sure why, but it felt odd not to even say ‘Mr Emrys’ after the sentence.

“What do you think so far?”

“It’s beautiful, I can’t wait to see more.” Beside him, Merlin pulled a gagging face and whispered the word ‘kiss up,’ but Balinor seemed quite interested by the answer.

“I have been all over the world, Arthur, and nothing hits me like this land.” Arthur nodded. “Especially the women!”

“Cheers Dad.”

“Merlin, just because you do not wish to sample the wines for yourself can no other get drunk?”

“Jesus Dad!” Merlin was off again, speaking a mile a minute, but now he let his hand trail down the back of Arthur’s neck, his long fingers making patterns along the skin that made Arthur shiver.

Before, Arthur didn’t, couldn’t tolerate little touches like these. It wasn;t even public affection, but Arthur had a very one track mind and only saw intimacy as a distraction. But little things like these, when Merlin would rub Arthur’s palms, or touch his shoulder as he walked by, or rub his neck when they were sitting still for a while, things like that were the things that meant Arthur knew how loved he was, and how much he loved Merlin.

“Thank God, we’re here!” Balinor bellowed, throwing himself out of the small car and walking along to help his father (who Arthur thought was called Kilgar but couldn’t be sure) out onto his feet.

“Arthur, wait.” Merlin wrapped his fingers round Arthur’s arm and held him back for a second longer, looking worried. “I just, well I just wanted to say that…” Merlin trailed off, biting his lip and staring to the floor. Merlin had never looked so… worried before.

“You’re not breaking up with me, are you?” Arthur really hoped he didn’t sound as anxious as he thought. Merlin couldn’t break up with him, they were looking into adopting a cat or a dog or a chinchilla, Merlin had wanted a sloth but Arthur had to draw the line somewhere because if not soon there would be an elephant and a giraffe and a flat in London could not house half the Saharrah desert…

“No Arthur!” Merlin seemed shocked, thank God, because Arthur was about to promise a zebra. “Why would you? Oh, never mind. My family are just, really odd.”

“You’re odd.”

“No Arthur, really really odd.”

“Merlin.” Arthur bent down and pressed a kiss to the bridge of Merlin’s nose. “My father ordered a blood test on you the first time you met and my mother took you lingerie shopping with her. Your family cannot be that odd.”

“They’re part of a cult and believe my Uncle is the spirit of a dragon in a human vessel.”

“That feels like something you could have mentioned…” Arthur began smiling at the look on Merlin’s face. “Look, Morgana believes that Uther has no soul, that Elvis Presley isn’t dead and that if no one kills her, she’ll live forever.” Arthur pulled Merlin’s gaze up and pressed a kiss on to his anxious boyfriend’s lips. “And even if your family sacrifice me to the spider God.” Merlin started laughing. “I will not love you any less.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a true romantic?” Merlin said, sounding a lot happier than a few moments ago.

Arthur looked down to the beaming smile on his boyfriend’s face.

“Oddly enough, no.” Arthur murmured, wrapping his fingers in Merlin's as they stepped out of the little tank of death.

“Good to know you aren’t close to liars, then.” Merlin whispered, standing up on his tiptoes and kissing the corner of Arthur's mouth.


	5. They Keep Advising Me Of My Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Arthur had known Merlin's family were in their own made up cult, he might have been more reluctant to visit. But then Merlin is grateful and it's all worth it.

“Mmm, your life line is sadly short, Arthur Pendragon.” The old lady crooned. “Merlin, Merlin come see how short his life line is!” She shook her head. “’Tis a pity.”

“Aunt Nimueh, please stop telling Arthur he’s going to die.” Merlin muttered. He walked away from the clutter of his family to Arthur and the old woman. “It took a long time to reel him in, it would be a shame if I’d wasted it.”

Nimueh gave a sad shake of the head, before turning round and joining the others, leaving Arthur and Merlin sat alone.

“Sorry, about, that.” Merlin said awkwardly. He was blushing a bit, and Arthur wanted to kiss the lines of red.

“At least now I don’t feel so guilty about Morgana and my father.” Arthur replied.

“You look terrified.”

“That’s because I am.” Arthur stage whispered.

Actually, Arthur was pretty terrified. Merlin’s family were weird. Really weird. The kind of weird that some people would call a ‘cult.’ If Arthur had known Merlin’s family were cult members, he probably would have given it a bit more consideration before coming out here.

In the few hours they had been here, Arthur’s death had been predicted six times, his ‘fall from grace’ four times and the return of ‘an enemy disguised as a friend’ was even put in the pot. It was a lot to handle at once.

“The mighty Pendragon- scared of a bunch of little old men and women!” Merlin crowed.

“Men and women who have predicted my downfall at least eight times.” Arthur scowled. If Merlin wasn’t going to give him the right kind of sympathy then Arthur would have to find something to do in retaliation. Like lose a foot. Well, that might be a bit extreme.

“Arthur, if they could actually predict the future, they would just pick the lottery numbers every week.” Merlin explained.

“We would not abuse our powers in such a manner!” One of the Aunts called. That was the other thing about Merlin’s family, they appeared from nowhere. “Just because you turned your back on the ways of the old does not mean we will mock it!”

Arthur seriously wondered if he was going to have to fight the old lady off to protect Merlin. Protecting Merlin’s honour was fine and all, but hitting an old woman would be a definite stain on his character. Merlin would probably be less than impressed, too, if Arthur sent an old woman to hospital.

“Now, now Higdeath.” Merlin’s granddad appeared from nowhere to appease the old woman. “Let’s go join the others, shall we?”

He swept her off, giving Merlin a little wink as he left.

“So, explain it to me again?” Arthur laughed. “The whole, wiccan, reincarnation, witches thing.”

“Good God Arthur, if you’re that interested just join the weird pagan thing go join them and be done with it.” Merlin giggled. “Right, so they all believe granddad is a reincarnated dragon spirit, stop laughing- this is serious stuff.”

“But, your granddad-”

“Thinks they’re off their bloody heads and wonders what he did to deserve them as relatives, yes.” Merlin moaned. Across the floor, it looked like Balinor and Kilgar were struggling to keep the other relatives from yelling and screaming at other café patrons.

“Why do they keep meeting up, then? You said this was a weekly shenanigan.”

“Family loyalty Arthur. They give the Lannister’s a run for their money.” Merlin supplied. Arthur elbowed him in the stomach. “Also, I think dad and granddad miss all the exotic animals. This is as exciting as it gets, nowadays.”

“But it must be exhausting dealing with them!” Arthur objected.

“You’re exhausting, but here I am.” Merlin whispered, giving Arthur a quick kiss on the cheek.

“If you’re rude to me again I will leave you to fend of the harpies you call family.” Arthur threatened. He picked up a napkin to wipe of the strands of jam left on his face.

“If you threaten me again they will cast a spell upon you and your harvest will fail.” Merlin whispered back.

Arthur watched Merlin as he looked over to the group of relatives on the side of the café. There was no way they were sane, and Merlin had grown up with them. Merlin probably knew they were weird, and still he looked so proud and fond as they smiled and laughed with each other it made Arthur’s heart flutter a little.

He picked up Merlin’s hand in his own, admiring the elegance of it. He loved how easily they slotted together.

“I think they like you, though.” Merlin said. “They’ve never liked anyone I brought back. Don’t even think they’re all that keen on me, really. You should be honoured.”

“Merlin, they keep advising me of my doom.” Which Arthur hoped wouldn’t come to fruition. He was quite fond of his life, especially with Merlin in it. He’d have to become a ghost, haunting his boyfriend forever. And that was just sad.

“At least they’re warning you! Didn’t even give my dad a word when they thought he might get bitten by a snake in Africa.” Merlin laughed.

Merlin’s laugh could inspire poets and artists, it could cure depression and set off fireworks, and he spent it on Arthur.

Arthur winced a little as one of the uncle’s began to yell rather loudly in a language that sounded more monkey than French. 

“Weirdly, the phrase book you gave me has nothing that sounds like a demonic possession.” Arthur hissed.

“Watch nature at work, Arthur, isn’t it amazing?” Merlin shushed. “The wild Aunt Gertrude stalks her prey, the desert buffet across the café slash Serengeti.” The two of them burst in to a childish fit of giggles. 

“Four years it took you to get that vet degree, is this the only reason you went for it?” Arthur replied. Merlin gave an eager nod. “You’re worse than Attenborough.”

“Merlin, Arthur, give us a hand!” Balinor called. “Need to wrangle the old folks back home.”

***

“I think one of them bit me.” Arthur whined.

“Oh, well I’ve been bitten by a tiger so I win.” Merlin retorted. That had happened one time, and the tiger was about six weeks old. Merlin even kept the tooth they pulled out of his leg as a fond memento.

“Your uncle bit me!”

“In all honesty, his mouth is mostly gum now, Arthur.” Merlin reasoned. “I think you’re putting up a bit of a fuss.” Even so, he found the mark (it was a mark, Arthur insisted) and gave it a little kiss.

If any of Arthur’s relatives had bit Merlin, he’d be a lot more apologetic. He’d probably be mortified beyond belief and find it hard to speak to Merlin again, though. If Merlin didn’t speak to him again it would probably make their relationship a little awkward, so maybe it was for the best he didn’t mind.

Balinor and Kilgar had gone to shepherd all the great (only by title) aunts and uncles off in the old folks home that Arthur was pretty sure was an asylum. No matter how much Merlin denied it.

“You’re ok to stay with at my Dad’s tonight, aren’t you?” Merlin whispered.

“Yeah. At least I won’t have Will glowering at me.” Arthur responded. “What’s his problem, anyway?”

“Long story.” Merlin groaned. Arthur just nodded his head. “It’s boring.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

Before Arthur could pester Merlin further, the two other men had burst in to the car and began to ramble.

Every now and then, Merlin would take a break from the flurry of French and check everything was Ok with Arthur. He asked so often Arthur’s lie that the driving was ‘fine’ even became believable. 

***

“See, at least now we have our own room together.” Merlin muttered between kisses. Arthur could only groan in agreement.

Merlin’s hands scrabbled at the buttons of Arthur’s shirt whilst Arthur’s hands lifted off Merlin’s t-shirt. Soon the two of them were naked, and they fell on to the cheap mattress of the bed in a tangle of legs and lips.

Arthur began to snake his hand down to Merlin’s groin, desperate for more skin on skin before Merlin stopped him with a gentle nibble on his lip.

“After what you put up with today?” Merlin panted. “Let me take care of you.”

“M, you don’t, you don’t have to-” Arthur grumbled. He loved whatever he and Merlin did, any contact they had, any moment together. He didn’t even care if he got off, as long as Merlin did. (Well, he did a little, but he was only human.”

“Want to.” Merlin grunted, and that was enough to convince Arthur.

Merlin started off slowly, mouthing Arthur’s nipples until they were hard and tender. He planted kisses down his boyfriend’s body, deepening them as he reacher Arthur’s groin.

“Fucking tease.” Arthur groaned, fondly.

He quickly shut up as Merlin pressed a kiss on the shaft of Arthur’s cock. After more (cruel) teasing, Merlin took the length of Arthur in to his mouth, slowly bobbing his head up and down.

It didn’t take long until Arthur felt that he would face an entire army of witches and wiccans to get Merlin like this again.

***

“Do we really have to go to the Eiffel tower?” Merlin whined.

“Merlin, you promised I would get to be a walking cliché. You promised croissants and baguettes and berets on the Eiffel tower.” Arthur supplied. It was very important the proposal was as cheesy and romantic as possible.

“But there are so many other things we could do! Things that don’t involve zillions of people and hours of queuing!” Merlin dropped his head forward, conspiratorially. “Naked things.”

Merlin and Arthur were sat at Kilgar’s breakfast table. The two other men had gone out for a hike in the hills, which Arthur and Merlin had decided to decline in place of their own brand of exercise and sightseeing. They’d managed it all without leaving their room.

“Well we’re here for ages. You can pick today’s activity.” Arthur said, charitably.

“Prat.” Merlin scowled, playfully.


End file.
